


with the hope that you would tame me

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Attention Deficit Disorder, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Coping, Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, M/M, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-10 17:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Once, on a dull night off, Liam tries asking Google on a whim. He stares at the blinking cursor in the search bar for a while, trying to figure out how to phrase it, because something tells him "why does my mate like it when I hit him" won't bring up a lot of helpful results.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	with the hope that you would tame me

**Author's Note:**

> Features pain used as a coping mechanism, and a little bit of blood. Many thanks to Jamie. ♥ Title from Hot Chip's 'One Life Stand'.

Louis can't know that it's what he wants, not until it happens. But he's pretty sure. He's had an inkling for a while, ever since sixth form when he and Hannah used to wrestle playfully and he enjoyed it maybe more than he should, when she'd knock the wind out of him or pin his arms above his head or tickle him 'til he cried mercy. He's usually pretty competitive, but this was different, because he never really felt the urge to fight her or try and beat her at the game. At the time he figured it was maybe just because she was a girl or something, but in retrospect it's really just because he didn't _want_ to. He liked the physicality of her attacking him, and he didn't need to make any effort, really, to get that to happen.

It only became obvious that he liked it when _The X Factor_ started and he found himself missing their playfights almost more than he missed her. He tried hurting himself a little bit as an experiment, tugging on his own hair like she sometimes would or pinching himself hard, and then at some point he found himself doing those things while wanking furtively and after that it was pretty easy to connect the dots. It just felt good, made him come harder, and he was always so much more relaxed afterwards.

The complicated part came when he connected a few more dots and realised he'd been trying to goad the others into fighting him all this time. He honestly hadn't even been aware he was doing it, at first, thought it was just boyish roughhousing brought on by the way they were all so physical with each other anyway. But then he realised no one was actually joining in, that he was just doing it because he wanted someone to retaliate, and he couldn't stop— _can't_ stop—and that's maybe a bit weird. 

But it's just small things, mostly. He gets Zayn into a headlock sometimes and messes with his hair, but even though that'll piss Zayn off he just tends to call Louis a wanker and kind of half-heartedly bat at him, too distracted worrying about the damage Louis's done to bother with payback. Niall's tricky too, because Louis can never really bring himself to hurt him. Usually he'll just be as irritating as possible instead, in the hopes Niall might lose his patience and shove him away, sick of Louis singing Ke$ha songs directly into his ear all day or whatever else Louis has deemed appropriately annoying. Niall has endless patience, though, and for the most part he just seems to find Louis's antics hilarious, and not maddening at all.

So then there's Liam, and Harry, and if Louis's honest with himself he will admit that he goes for them the most. He's not sure _why_ , because he's definitely not getting anywhere with them, but there's just something that draws him to them more often than Zayn and Niall. Liam, he likes to slap across the face, and he likes to pinch his nipples too, twist them 'til they sting. It's partly just because his reaction is amusing, the way he'll always act so startled even though Louis does it all the time, but of course Louis is secretly hoping one day Liam will react with something other than vague shock and actually do it back. 

Harry is nearly impossible. Harry puts up with anything. Louis learnt this quickly, after a couple of weeks of fruitless harassment. He doesn't know if Harry just has a very high tolerance for both irritation and pain, or lacks the normal human fight-or-flight response, but even hitting him in the _balls_ has little effect. Harry's response to that is just a lot of groaning and clutching at himself without ever considering getting revenge. He'll be cuddling Louis again ten minutes later, and Louis just doesn't understand what's wrong with everybody and what they have against putting him in his place.

He tickles Niall for what feels like half an hour, once, and Niall just sort of wriggles about and laughs like a hyena and tells Louis to stop a couple of times through hysterical giggles, but never actually makes any attempt to _get_ him to. Eventually Louis gives up, slumping back on the sofa and lamenting, "Why doesn't anyone just like, _kick_ me when I'm being annoying?"

"You were sitting on my legs," Niall points out, which is a fair point, and then, "also, we're all a little scared of you, mate."

Louis lets out a frustrated whine and stomps off, which probably seems like a bit of a weird response, but Niall doesn't question it. Which is annoying, really, because maybe if they talked it out Niall would agree to hit Louis round the face or something just so Louis could get this thing out of his system, finally know how it actually _feels_. But Louis can't exactly bring it up with anyone; it's embarrassing to think of saying it out loud, easier to let his body do the talking even though no one seems to listen.

It's not fair on the others, this whole thing, but Louis doesn't know what else he can do. He needs this. He can still hurt _himself_ , but that's not really right, that's something he can control and expect and what he wants is for it to be unpredictable. Still, it's better than nothing, pulling at his own nipples while he's bringing himself off, biting hard into the soft flesh of his own arm, deliberately keeping his palm dry around his cock so it drags a little on the downstroke. He's always in this weird mood after, where he's happy to just sit still and listen to things and let the world go on around him. The only thing he can really compare it to is how it felt when he went to the hospital after he got stung by the sea urchin in Marbella, and they put him on all these powerful meds that made it feel like everything was good and nothing really mattered. Which is funny, really, because actually being _stung_ in the first place felt pretty similar, and it seems odd for both pain and pain medication to put him in the same frame of mind.

Louis's really starting to pick up on patterns, starting to figure this thing out. He's realised that if he gets twitchy during interviews it'll help for him to pinch himself, the pain a distraction from his boredom or his agitation at having to sit still or his frustration at the reporter for asking the same questions as everyone else. If he's too hyped up on a night out or after a concert he'll find himself being a little more reckless with his own body, a little less spatially aware, and if he knocks into some furniture or goes over on his ankle it just calms him down, somehow. Pain seems to be able to bring him back to earth or make him drift off somewhere else, depending on what he needs it to do, and he's pretty sure it's not the effect it's supposed to have—other people get upset or angry when they're in pain, but Louis just...welcomes it. It does different things to him, but as far as he can tell, they're all pretty good. He doesn't know if that means some wires are crossed wrongly in his brain or something but if he's honest, he doesn't really care. 

For the most part, anyway. Sometimes he worries about it, because he does so many things without thinking, just follows an impulse and it really feels like someday he could injure himself badly. By the time they're halfway into the _X Factor_ tour he feels like he's losing his mind. He and Hannah have been drifting apart for months, Louis's busy schedule putting a lot of strain on their relationship, and they've finally decided to just take a break and see if that solves anything, but Louis feels like he needs her now more than ever. It's starting to feel like no one will ever ask him about this thing, and everyone is just going to go on acting like it's perfectly fine that Louis is regularly tormenting them for no apparent reason. It's not even something he feels he can control, he's just needling everyone all the time and being a total nuisance and he sort of hates himself for it but he can't fucking stop. Everybody's getting a little testy with him and Zayn yells at him a few times but that's it; they just seem to be going from one day to the next without anything ever actually _happening_. The shows help to get out some of the frustration, the excess energy Louis seems to have, but he's still aching for something else, something it's starting to feel like he might never get.

And then one day, Liam breaks. Louis's in Liam's hotel room after lunch on a day off and just nagging at him, trying to persuade him to come on an adventure with him outside and see how long it takes them to get lost, and even though it's pretty obvious that Liam's really not in the mood, Louis can't make himself shut up.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon," he pesters, "just for a bit, like, see how far away from the hotel we can get in twenty minutes."

"I want a nap, Louis," Liam says, and his voice sounds a little tight. Before, he was apologetic, telling Louis how sorry he was that he was a bit tired and how he'd maybe rather have a bit of a lie-down before dinner, but now his patience is clearly beginning to wear thin.

"Liiiiiiam," Louis whines, giving him a little half-hearted shove, hands on his chest.

Surprisingly, Liam responds to that, shoving Louis back—just a little, even more gentle, not like he really _means_ it but even so—

"Come on," Louis demands, shoving Liam a little harder in the shoulder. "C'mon c'mon c'mon." He punctuates each word with a slap to Liam's cheek, and Liam is smiling, rolling his eyes, putting up with it—but when Louis brings his hand back down and gets in Liam's face, fluttering his eyelashes ridiculously, suddenly Liam slaps him back, for the very first time. He laughs like it's a bit of a game as his palm swiftly bats Louis's cheek, and Louis loses all of his remaining sense in about two seconds flat.

He knows, logically, that the best thing to do would probably be to play it cool, to act like Liam's won and leave it for another couple of days and then go through this all again, get him to reach breaking point for the second time. Or maybe to slap Liam right back, turn it into a little fight. But in the moment, he just can't control his reaction. His eyelids flutter again but it's involuntary this time, and he hears himself hiss out a "Yesss," and then he's saying, "do it again," before he can stop himself.

"Wh-what?" stammers Liam, taking a step back, the goofy grin vanishing from his face. "Why?"

"Just—" Louis is impatient, now that he's felt it he just wants it _again_ , and again and again. He doesn't want to _talk_ about it. "Just—do it Liam, come on."

He finds himself tilting his head, offering his cheek, the one that's still tingling.

" _Why?_ " asks Liam again, bewildered.

"Just," Louis says, knowing he can't possibly explain, especially not now when his whole body is thrumming with something frantic, a hum of promise, "I want you to do it again."

"But I don't—"

"Liam, I liked it, c'mon please—" Louis's begging before he even realises what he's saying, crumbling into pure desperation right before Liam's eyes, "please please please, just fucking hit me."

Liam is looking at him with a sort of fierce confusion and Louis is too far gone to even feel ashamed of pleading with him like this, too hungry for it. He watches, begging with his eyes, and Liam seems to be bracing himself, jittery with something just like Louis is, tapping his foot against the carpet. The rhythmic sound of it is sending Louis crazy; he grabs for Liam's hand instinctively like he's going to somehow draw it across his own face but just as he takes it Liam snatches it away and then suddenly there's a fresh jab of pain in Louis's cheek, a hot sting that spreads.

Louis gasps and his knees buckle; he stumbles back a step and drops onto the foot of the bed without thinking, dazed and staring up at Liam, Liam who still looks completely bewildered but hasn't left, hasn't told him he's a freak and gotten the hell out of there. Louis feels a sudden rush of gratitude.

"Again?" he says hopefully, and Liam's face goes tight, brow wrinkling.

"Louis, I don't understand," he says helplessly, "what's this about?"

Louis heaves an impatient sigh. "I don't know, alright?" he says and it comes out harsh. "Can't you just do it without asking questions?"

Liam looks taken aback, hurt, and Louis immediately feels guilty. "I just don't want to hurt you," Liam says in a small voice.

"But that's what I want," Louis snaps back without thinking, and then he _does_ think, and realises maybe he's just being selfish, and maybe he was an idiot to think Liam would actually be willing to do this. He might've learnt how to box to beat up bullies but these days he wouldn't hurt a fucking fly.

Liam sighs and he sounds frustrated now, fists clenching. "I just don't get it."

"Do you have to get it to be able to do it?" Louis asks, his heart sinking.

"Well, yeah," Liam says hesitantly, "yeah, I think so, 'cause otherwise I feel like it's just—for no reason and I don't—"

"Alright, alright, whatever, I'm a weirdo, I get it," says Louis hurriedly, cutting him off and getting to his feet, feeling embarrassment beginning to creep up his spine. 

"No, Lou, don't just—are we okay?" Liam says in a sort of broken voice that just makes Louis inexplicably angry.

"Yeah, just, leave it for a bit okay? Let me go stew in my own shame," Louis tries to turn the sentence into a joke halfway through but it falls flat, and Liam is looking at him with something like pity, which Louis can't _stand_.

"Don't be—I mean it's not—I'm just confused."

"Yeah, well, I can't help you with that," Louis says, still trying to keep the tone of his voice jovial, but he knows Liam can see straight through him. "See you later for dinner, all right?"

He goes for a wander around the hotel because he doesn't really want to face any of the others like this, but eventually his feet take him back to his and Harry's room where he slumps face-first onto his bed and lets out a frustrated groan. Harry comes over and, after two aborted attempts at trying to find out what's wrong, stops asking questions and just cuddles him, and after half an hour Louis is starting to feel better. He doesn't really want to have to see Liam again right now but they're going out for pizza, the five of them, and he just has to grit his teeth and bear it.

Liam is annoyingly gentle with him, walking on eggshells like Louis is someone who has to be treated delicately all of a sudden, like some crazed mental patient who might suddenly throw down his pizza and demand that Liam slap him in front of the entire restaurant. It's humiliating, and Louis hates it, and it doesn't pass. Louis can't help not wanting to be alone with him, not wanting to engage with him for any longer than necessary when he can see the concern in Liam's gentle eyes and sense the apologies on the tip of his tongue.

It's made worse by the fact that he can't just put the whole thing out of his mind, can't just forget what happened and put it behind him. He can't stop thinking about it; it drifts into his mind when he's wanking off in the shower in the mornings and he'll brace himself against the tiles and remember the sting of Liam's palm on his cheek and it makes him come so hard that his thighs tremble and his knees go weak. He needs it, now that he's had a taste of it he _needs_ it to happen again. He's climbing the walls without it and it's driving him crazy.

Harry's concerned about him, he can tell. He doesn't pry, and he doesn't get all patronising with his worry like Liam, but he sticks by Louis's side more lately, offers more cuddles, encourages him to share his bed at night for comfort. Louis has the feeling he's waiting, patiently waiting for Louis to open up to him, but Louis wouldn't even know where to start. It makes him wonder, though, whether this is something Harry _could_ do for him after all, if Louis only asked. Harry accepts Louis—and everyone—just the way they are and Louis knows he'd never judge him, would probably be willing to give Louis what he wants even if he doesn't understand why he wants it. Louis just doesn't know how to _ask_ , and he knows he'll have to, because slapping Harry around has absolutely no effect. Harry will never retaliate, unless perhaps Louis explicitly asks him to.

They're curled up in Harry's bed together one night, Louis gazing at the ceiling and chewing on a fingernail while Harry makes his way through a reread of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ , heavy book balanced on his bare chest.

"Haz, would you," Louis spits out suddenly, and they've both been silent for so long that Harry actually starts a little at the words and then laughs at himself. Louis tries not to be thrown off track, rolling over to look Harry in the eye. "Would you like—would you ever, y'know, like...hurt me?"

Harry frowns, eyebrows drawing in and forehead crinkling, confused. "No," he says then, sounding almost aghast. "Like—no, Lou, 'course I wouldn't."

Louis's heart sinks as he realises Harry misinterpreted the question, but it feels too late to clarify now, especially with Harry looking at him like hurting him is the last thing he'd ever be willing to do.

Harry puts the book down, open on his chest, and then shuffles closer, pulling Louis to him. "Why would you even think that?" he murmurs, kissing Louis's temple.

"Dunno," Louis mumbles. "Just. Never mind."

The frustration bubbles up in his stomach again as Harry holds him close.

***

The show the next night is brilliant. Like, _really_ brilliant. They've been having a lot of fun on the tour so far but it hasn't quite felt like they actually know what they're doing until tonight. Tonight they're just _on_ , they all sound so good and the crowd is wild and for the first time Liam can properly taste it, can see them doing this all by themselves on a headline tour. He knows the others all feel it too, he can sense it, they're all on the same wavelength and every time he catches someone's eye they end up grinning like idiots at each other, overwhelmed by it all.

It's hard coming down after a show anyway but tonight it feels impossible. Everybody piles into Zayn's room and ransacks the minibar because out of the four of them who drink, only half are actually legally allowed, so they can't go down to the bar or anything. Liam's heart thuds in his chest with leftover adrenaline as he watches the four of them galloping around the room, Louis mixing Harry a drink with far too much overpriced rum in it and then trying to pour it into his mouth. He watches Louis the most, actually, pleased by how happy he seems for the first time since what happened between them. He's been so distant, and it's sort of a relief to see him acting like a twat again. Liam keeps a close eye on him and notices he only has one drink, a splash of vodka in some Coke that he abandons after only a few sips and it's strange, because Louis's usually the first to get totally pissed, but it seems like he doesn't need it tonight, like the high from performing is enough.

Liam starts to get a little concerned, though, as the night goes on and Louis doesn't wind down. It always takes him longer than the rest of them, but there's usually a noticeable decrease in his excitement levels even if he _is_ still buzzing by bedtime, and tonight he seems exactly the same as he did when they got offstage. The others are getting sleepy, Zayn already half passed-out, sprawled across his bed, and Louis is turning the music up louder and trying to get Niall to dance with him, even though Niall is so far gone that he can no longer co-ordinate his limbs. There's just something wild in Louis's eyes, some kind of hectic desperation like he doesn't want to stop, or more like he _can't_ , and Liam doesn't know what to make of it, of the way he went from snapping at everybody before the show to _this_.

"Liiiiam, Liam, come dance," Louis demands, as Niall gives up and flops down on top of Zayn. Zayn grumbles half-heartedly and Harry, who recently joined him on the bed, lets out a drunken bark of laughter.

"I'm good," Liam chuckles. He doesn't mind watching the rest of them try use up their lingering excitement but their methods have never worked for him; he prefers to just sit and be still and let it all simmer down.

"Nooo, come on," Louis pesters, trying to heave Liam up off the bed. Zayn half-heartedly takes a hold of Liam's ankle in solidarity, but Liam shakes them both off.

"I'm gonna go to bed actually I think," he says, getting to his feet.

Louis pouts at him. "Uh uh," he protests. There's something frantic in his eyes and it's unsettling, especially after a whole week of Louis seemingly avoiding him, even when Liam was trying so hard to be nice.

"Uh huh," Liam insists. "I'll see you all in the morning. Don't choke on your own sick or anything. Zayn, make sure they don't choke on their own sick."

Zayn lifts his head, says, "Will do," and then drops it back into the duvet. Liam is unconvinced, but this has happened before and they've been even more intoxicated, and he knows he can trust them.

"Alright," he says with a wave, "night night."

Louis is still looking at him with a weird sort of angry desperation, and all the way back to his own room Liam is waiting to hear the door opening behind him and Louis chasing after him, but it doesn't happen. In his own hotel room he finds that he's still wired, not ready for sleep yet, and he considers taking a bath so he'll be forced to do nothing but lie there and relax. He paces the room agitatedly, wondering if he should've stayed with the others. It seems so quiet now.

Just at that thought, there's a sudden hammering on the door. Liam almost wants to laugh but at the same time there's a tight spiral of anxiety twisting up inside of him as he heads to let Louis in, knowing without a doubt that it's him.

"They're all just falling asleep and it's boring and I'm bored and I can't fucking sit still and I want—" Louis babbles, stumbling through the doorway, "—I just wanna _do_ something, Liam, I'm like—I'm going out of my mind."

Liam realises, then, with a shock to his system, how _distressed_ Louis seems. He's on that concert high that's very familiar to Liam but it's like he's not actually _enjoying_ it anymore, like it's eating away at his nerves and that's not something Liam's ever seen in him, Louis always embraces it and refuses to let it get the better of him.

"Alright, okay, um," Liam says, taking Louis hesitantly by the shoulders and trying to guide him towards the bed. "Maybe just—maybe try and sit still for a minute and just breathe—"

" _No_ ," Louis cries immediately, shaking him off, "no, I fucking can't, I'm like—Liam can we go do something, can we like—fuck, I don't know, _run_ somewhere or like, I need to move, I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin."

He laughs and it sounds sort of hysterical and Liam's anxiety spikes. "Are you—Lou, are you drunk?"

" _No_ ," Louis says again, with heavy emphasis, "I don't—I had the tiniest bit, it was making things worse."

"Okay," says Liam, still floundering, wondering what the hell to do. It's not like Louis's never had moods like this before, but he's never asked for _help_ with them, he's just gone with his instinct and done ridiculous things to get it out of his system, cartwheeled down hotel corridors. The way he's acting now, it's almost like a panic attack of some kind, like he's overwhelmed by the energy thrumming through his own veins and scared by the way he can't get rid of it. He won't stop moving, even now, shifting from foot to foot and picking at his fingers, revved up and twitchy and if Liam didn't know him he might think he was on some kind of drug.

"Liam," says Louis in a hopeless sort of voice, "Liam I know you don't want to but I really—I think I really need you to hit me."

Somehow Liam's not surprised, when he hears it, like in the depths of his mind he already knew that might be what Louis was needing. And he knows Louis isn't manipulating him into it, knows that whatever Louis is feeling right now is genuine and a little out of control and—Liam doesn't understand _how_ it could help, Louis had gone all frantic when he did it before, like someone had lit a fire under him, but—then Liam remembers the way Louis went all dazed after the second slap, sunk down onto the bed, going still.

Louis draws in shaky breath after shaky breath, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and Liam does it, surrenders because he doesn't know what _else_ he can do, and slaps Louis across the face. It's not harsh, more of a light _thud_ of Liam's hand against Louis's cheek, but the reaction Louis has is—is incomprehensible. He relaxes instantly like the tension has drained right out of his body, lets out this little sound of relief, and goes still, limbs loose.

"Thank you, thank you," he says then, exhaling loud. "Shit. Okay. Again?"

Liam clenches his teeth and tells himself _once more_ and obliges, and Louis's chest heaves with it as he sighs with some sort of relief. He goes and sits down at the end of Liam's bed, and for a moment he looks happy, but then almost instantly his expression switches and he looks—sort of scared, or ashamed maybe, dropping his head down into his hands.

"Lou, it's okay," Liam says, his voice wavering a little as he steps closer to stand before him. "I—it's okay, you're okay. We're okay."

Louis nods, but he seems distant again all of a sudden, like he's somewhere else.

"Lou, just—just tell me this isn't like, a weird self-harm kinda thing," Liam says softly, placing a gentle hand on Louis's shoulder. Louis brings his own up to cover it, his eyes fixed on Liam's, pupils full-blown. "Like I don't, I don't want to do this if it's because you feel like...you deserve it or something. Is it because you're unhappy?"

Louis keeps staring at him for a further moment, and he looks so _out_ of it that Liam's starting to think maybe he didn't even hear him, but then Louis shakes his head, back and forth, slow and very deliberate. He takes a firmer grip of Liam's hand and at first Liam thinks he's just holding it tight but then he drags it down, skimming over his torso to settle down between his legs. He keeps it there, Liam's palm flat over himself where he's hot and achingly firm beneath the fabric of his jeans. Liam's mouth goes dry and he goes to pull away, and Louis allows it, his own hand going slack and letting Liam's go. His gaze is still focused on Liam, intense, and Liam forces himself to look down, down to the very obvious bulge in the front of Louis's trousers. He can even make out the shape, just about; the long slight curve of Louis's dick, trapped tight and surely painfully hard.

"Oh," he hears his own voice say, faintly. "Oh, um."

"Yeah," Louis's reply is faint too, breathy, and Liam drags his eyes back to Louis's face. His cheek is slightly reddened from Liam's hand and Liam can't fight down that instant welling-up of guilt even though he knows just how much Louis wanted this, knows now exactly how he was affected by it.

"I don't, um," stammers Liam. He has no idea what to say. Surely Louis doesn't expect him to—help, with this?

"Just—just—I need," Louis says incoherently, and then sort of whimpers, helplessly, "it _hurts_."

He's fumbling with his zipper and Liam's heart leaps into his throat; he averts his eyes instinctively but Louis's just alleviating some of the pressure, getting his fly open and breathing out shakily.

"Okay. Sorry. Shit." Louis seems to be trying to slow his breathing down and Liam thinks of how he'd relaxed instantly from just that one slap, wonders how many it would take for him to calm down properly. "Li," Louis says, "can we—I need more."

"Right, yeah, okay." Liam feels slightly dizzy, trying not to think too much about how hard Louis is, trying not to let his eyes flick down and see whether it's even more obvious now with just the thin fabric of his boxers covering him. He doesn't know what to think about the fact that this is—sexual, doesn't want to know what that means for his own involvement.

Louis shuts his eyes and lifts his chin, offers the right side of his face, and Liam sucks in a deep breath and takes Louis by the jaw. He didn't think to do that before, but now that they're actually doing this, _properly_ , he needs to make sure they're being safe. He can remember certain stuff from when he used to box when he was younger, stuff about fractured jaws and cheekbones and he knows there's a difference between hitting someone with a fist in a glove and doing it with an bare palm but either way the thought of breaking bones is terrifying.

He holds Louis steady, slaps light with his other hand and then harder, and then again, feeling the raw heat of Louis's cheek. He turns Louis's face the other way, thinking he should keep things even so that in case the redness lingers it won't look so strange, and he's so focused, counting, that it takes him a second to notice that—that Louis's _touching_ himself, his hand shoved down the front of his boxers and stroking rapidly.

"Louis," he chokes out, stunned, "Louis, stop."

And Louis does, instantly, and that shouldn't shock Liam even more but it _does_ ; he's left floundering for a moment trying to think of a single other time that he's told Louis to do something and he's obeyed, and he _can't_. And yet this was instantaneous. He knows Louis is probably just aware of his discomfort but it's jarring, unsettling, to see him do as he's told without question or protest or mockery.

For a long moment they just stare at each other. Louis inches his hand out of his boxers, the waistband snapping gently, and Liam tries not to look down. 

"Fuck. Liam, I just—I really, I really need to come, I can't—" Louis says weakly, and Liam can see from the tension in his shoulders how much effort it's taking for him to keep his hand away from himself and that's—Liam doesn't even know what that is. He doesn't know how to deal with that at all.

It's not that he doesn't _want_ Louis to, but he's not sure he can cope with him doing it right in front of him either. But at the same time he has this feeling, he knows with absolute certainty that he can't just leave—can't just slap Louis 'til he's burning up and then shut the door on him.

"Liam," Louis is whining, properly _whining_ now and Liam's never heard him sound like this, "Liam, please, please, fuck."

It's—bewildering, really, the way Louis is begging, begging for _permission_ , instead of just doing what he likes and not caring whether or not it makes anyone uncomfortable, which is his usual attitude. Liam isn't used to this at all, doesn't know how to react; it's throwing him off completely. Louis keeps up this litany of _please_ and curses and Liam's name, and Liam can't _stand_ it, has to make him stop.

"Okay, _okay_ , you can," he says hurriedly, and Louis shuts up, thankfully, but his hand goes straight back inside his boxers and Liam's eyes can't help but follow. He catches a glimpse of the flushed, shining head of Louis's cock poking out from the waistband as Louis fumbles to get his fist wrapped right around it.

Liam looks frantically away, then, but it's like everything gets intensified, he can hear his own blood rushing in his ears and the slick sound of Louis's hand working his cock, the stuttering of their breath, almost hysterical.

"Liam, I need you to," Louis pants out and this time Liam doesn't hesitate, doesn't even think, so worked up and on edge from it all that it's instant, his hand taking a firm hold of Louis's head to keep it still as he slaps him harshly across the face.

Louis whimpers, trying to nod in Liam's tight grip, and Liam can see the way his hand is moving frantic and clumsy in his boxers and it's—this is—it's all so _wrong_ , Liam shouldn't be doing this and Louis shouldn't be _liking_ it. But Liam can't stop, not now; the knowledge that he's bringing Louis closer is urging him on and he doesn't even know if it's because he wants this to be over or because he just wants Louis to get off. He bites down hard on his own lip and tilts Louis's head and dares to hit him just that little bit harder, almost _too_ hard, and Louis's hips buck and he sputters, and swears, and comes. Liam tries to resist but he can't not look, his eyes drawn to where Louis's black boxers are going darker with wet and his wrist is glistening. 

Louis is breathing heavy, almost wheezing, and he turns his face into Liam's hand, nuzzles against it like a cat. His skin is fever-hot and flushed so dark, his hair plastered across his forehead with sweat, and he's _smiling_ , dazed and blissful and absurd, his shoulders slumping heavy.

"Fucking hell," he sighs out, "thanks for that."

Liam just sort of nods, speechless, and sinks down onto the bed beside him. Louis's head immediately drops down onto Liam's shoulder and he wriggles closer, and Liam reaches out shakily to put an arm around him and hold him there, close. He sits, and listens, until Louis's breathing returns to normal, and then he says quietly, "Are you okay?"

It's maybe a stupid question, because Louis seems utterly elated.

"Yeah," says Louis, and his voice is small and weak but he sounds sure. "Can I—can I sleep here?"

"Oh," says Liam, "yeah, um. Yeah, of course."

Louis stays resting on him for a bit, coming down, and then heads into the bathroom on wobbly legs to clean himself up, comes back in a pair of Liam's pyjama trousers and flops into bed. He's even more cuddly than usual that night, curving his body alongside Liam's under the sheets, carelessly tangling their legs. He's always been this kind of sleeper, even when they all shared beds for the first time at the bungalow and hardly knew each other he had no qualms, in his sleep, about snuggling up to one of the boys like a lover. Liam felt a bit weird about it back then, especially when Louis revealed during a drunken game of Truth or Dare that he'd fancied guys before, but after a while it became clear that it wasn't really about that. This is just the kind of person Louis is; he craves the touch of other people, and Liam's learning now that it doesn't always have to be tender.

But tonight Liam saw him _come_ , tonight he felt the hardness of Louis's cock through his jeans, and now Louis's curling up with him in bed, using Liam's chest as a pillow. Liam can feel it again, that discomfort he had around Louis at the beginning, and he tries to push it out of his mind because he knows this doesn't have anything to do with _him_ , it's just the pain that got Louis off, but—still, he can't relax enough to fall asleep. He can feel the heat of Louis's cheek against his chest even though the sheets, and he just hopes the redness will have gone down by the morning because he doesn't think Louis can claim sunburn in February.

While Liam lies awake, his brain busy and his body shifting because he can't get comfortable, Louis is utterly still. It's bizarre to see him like this. Liam has seen him sleepy before of course, exhausted even, but this is—different. Usually when Louis gets tired he gets grumpy, like everything's drained right out of him and he's miserable about it, getting snippy with everybody. But this isn't that at all; he's just so _calm_ , and contented. It somehow makes Liam feel better and more nervous at the same time. 

It's different the next day, too. Usually Louis springs into action in the mornings, but when the two of them wake up the following day he's sprawled and lazy in Liam's bed and Liam has to remind him they've got an interview. He gets up without complaint though, and is strangely quiet all day. It's not like he's mardy, or stuck in his own head, he's just—chill, and it's so unusual for him that Niall actually demands to know who he is and what he's done with Louis. 

It carries on, Louis's weirdly blissed-out mood. It's almost like a sort of sleepiness, only he's able to summon energy when it's needed; he's not having any trouble with rehearsals or performances or anything. He's just—for the most part—settled and satiated, sort of tranquil. Liam might be disturbed by it, but Louis's still _himself_ , still cracking jokes and acting like a bit of nutcase on occasion. His madness is just different now, like it's not controlling him anymore, and that definitely seems like a positive change.

Liam doesn't get it, doesn't get why being hit across the face could have this much of an effect on Louis's attitude. He can't stop thinking about it, trying to puzzle it out. He supposes maybe it just brings Louis some kind of relief, helps him get out of his own head and focus on something other than his own thoughts for a while, but it still doesn't really make sense.

Once, on a dull night off, Liam tries asking Google on a whim. He stares at the blinking cursor in the search bar for a while, trying to figure out how to phrase it, because something tells him "why does my mate like it when I hit him" won't bring up a lot of helpful results. In the end he sort of stumbles around cyberspace reading about the psychological effects of face-slapping, about pain and endorphins and trust and control. Some of it sounds familiar, some of the safety stuff he learnt from boxing but the rest still doesn't make a lot of sense to him. He reads for a long time trying to understand and storing information away in his brain because he has a feeling that whatever this is, it isn't over.

He wonders if maybe he should _make_ it be over but he knows if Louis asked him again he'd do it right away. He wants to. That doesn't make a lot of sense to him either, but it's—it's just so good to see Louis calm for a change, to have him relaxed and not leaping around all the time and yelling. He's never really felt comfortable with Louis's mania; even though they've known each other for more than half a year now he still can't relax fully in his company, because he never knows what to expect from him. He's also always suspected that it might be more of a problem than Louis lets on, something not entirely genuine. It seems like a sort of mask of reckless insanity that he can put up and hide behind to keep people at a distance, but one that he's been wearing so often for so long that he no longer feels in control of it. Liam's seen him vulnerable and quiet a couple of times before, of course, but it's nice to think there's a way to make that happen, especially if it's something Louis feels the need for every so often.

Liam tries not to think about the sexual side of it, because that part is a lot harder for him to deal with. He doesn't know what it really means for him that he's willing to participate in something that Louis actively gets off on, doesn't know what it means for their relationship if he does something to Louis that gets him so turned on he has to wank off right then and there. Liam keeps telling himself it's not _him_ , really, that Louis would probably still get horny even if it was Simon Cowell slapping him across the face (though Liam shudders to think) because it's not a reaction he can control. 

And as long as Liam keeps his distance from that side of things, he thinks he'll be okay, but he can't help but think about it sometimes, about the sight of Louis's hand stuffed down the front of his boxers and rubbing at his cock, or the feel of it when he put Liam's hand over it through his trousers, or the look on his face when he came. It keeps coming back to him when he's with Danielle and he tries to shove it out of his mind because he needs it not to become an issue, he needs to keep these things separate. He tries to distract himself with Danielle for a while, but they don't have anything serious that he can really throw himself into. It's too complicated with the tour, difficult to find time for dates, and instead he finds himself thinking about Louis a lot—too much—watching and waiting for his usual hyperactivity to return and wondering what he should do when it does.

***

It happens again, and Louis doesn't have to wrangle it out of him _or_ let himself get to the point where he feels like he's going to die. He's just kind of antsy all day; they have all these interviews and he can't sit still and at one point Liam flicks him on the thigh, under the table, a harsh snap of his finger through Louis's trousers and Louis gasps quietly with the shock of it but already he feels the distracting spread of pain through his nerves, and he steadies his breathing and looks at Liam sidelong, sees him grinning shyly. 

He does it again when they're out for dinner and Louis's being too loud—he knows he is but he can't seem to shut himself up and he's getting on everyone's nerves but his mouth is running away from him and then there's Liam, this time reaching beneath the table and clutching his forearm, _hard_ , digging in his fingernails. Louis's heart rate slows and the volume of his voice goes down a few decibels. 

After, traipsing down the hotel corridor, Louis elbows Liam gently. He tries to keep his voice low so the others don't hear, says, "Can we—" 

He doesn't even know how he's planning to finish the sentence but Liam says, "Yeah," immediately, to Louis's surprise. "Yeah, if you need—"

"I think I do." Zayn and Niall are heading off to their rooms but Harry's hanging back, waiting for Louis and looking suspicious. "I'll be back in a bit?" Louis says, trying to ignore the twist of guilt in his stomach at keeping secrets from Harry like this.

Harry frowns. "Okay," is all he says, as he turns on his heel.

"I'm not—I'm still not—" Liam stammers when they get into his room and Louis kicks off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket. "Like I'm still not _comfortable_ with this but it's, it's something you need, right?"

"Yeah," Louis says, keeping it simple and joke-free because he can tell Liam's being serious, needing answers or this won't happen.

"Okay, can you—can you go stand against the wall?" Liam asks uncertainly. "I just—I don't wanna be like, looming over you this time."

Louis nods, following the line of Liam's finger where he's pointing. He breathes out unsteadily, his back to the wall, anticipation building in his gut. Liam rubs nervously at his thighs through his jeans and then comes towards him, taking him by the chin.

"Yeah, Liam, come on," Louis urges when Liam hesitates. "Do it, please."

He's excited for it, heart pounding fast and body sort of trembly all over. Liam is just looking at him uncertainly and Louis reaches out, prods him hard in the stomach.

"Don't be a tease," he quips.

Liam lets out a breathy laugh, uneasy, but gives a sharp little nod and holds Louis's chin tighter, slapping him once across the left cheek and then the right. Louis grins, wide, feeling the flood of endorphins through him like a wave, and he steadies himself, trying to keep still. One more slap and he's already swelling up in his trousers, aching. He reaches to fidget with his zipper, just to get Liam's attention, and Liam glances down and nods at him shakily.

"Yeah, you can—" he says, and Louis does, quickly unzipping and getting his hand inside to wrap around himself and it's so fucking good, the combination of the burn in his cheeks as Liam continues to slap him and the slick pleasure of his hand on his cock.

When he comes, shuddering gently against the wall and spilling over his hand, Liam caresses Louis's face gently instead, stroking where it's red and sore. Louis still feels like he's got something left, some little bit of frenzy whirring inside of him that's only been dulled, not stamped out. He wants to go again.

"Li, can you—" he says, voice a little hoarse, "can you not stop? Like—I'm, I'm not done, I want more."

Liam looks torn. "I can't—it's too much. And it'll show, Lou. If I keep going you're gonna be, like—you're gonna be bruised, I think." His voice cracks a little.

"Hit me somewhere else, then," Louis says instantly. He gestures to his belly, thinks about Liam's strong fists pummelling it, how different that would be to a slap to the face, how it might make him double over. "Hit me here instead."

"But you've got—I mean, you've got _organs_ there, Lou. I can't hurt like, your kidneys."

"My kidneys?" Louis grins. "Yeah, gotta be wary of my kidneys. We've only got three between us, after all."

Liam laughs then, and it's high-pitched and nervy and sets Louis off, falling into him and giggling into the crook of his shoulder.

"Have you been reading up?" Louis teases.

"Don't want to hurt you."

"Hurting me's kind of the point, Liam."

"Don't want to _break_ you."

"What _can_ you do, then?" he asks, breathing hot into Liam's neck, and Liam shudders a little, pushing Louis back against the wall. It feels cool against Louis's shoulder blades and he leans into it, looking up into Liam's eyes, waiting. Something rises up in his chest as they look at each other, Liam's lips quirking in a bashful smile, and Louis wants him to touch him again.

Liam reaches out and feels for Louis's nipples through his t-shirt, pinching them between thumb and forefinger, hard. Louis lets out a gasp that's half of a laugh when he thinks about the number of times he's done this to Liam, done this to _all_ the boys and they've never fought back. He's done it to himself too of course, but it's never felt as good as this.

Liam lets go, and Louis breathes, "Yeah," and pulls his t-shirt up over his head. His boxers are still sticky, his come cooling in them, and he takes a chance, decides to just strip all the way off while he's at it. Liam makes a little sound but it doesn't sound like protest, so Louis carries on, wiggling out of his trousers and pants and kicking them aside.

He straightens back up and it feels scary and exciting to be standing in front of Liam without any clothes on like this, totally exposed. He doesn't know what he wants Liam to _do_ about it but his heart's beating out a frantic rhythm against his ribcage and he feels small and vulnerable and it's not something he ever expected to feel so _good_. He thinks about Liam really beating him up and his throat goes dry. 

He thinks about Liam holding him close after, kissing his hair, and his stomach flips.

Liam's gaze is all over the place, like he's trying to avoid looking at Louis's cock but he can't quite keep his eyes fixed on his face either, and he's trying to work out what else to do. Just _that_ , the strangely calculating look in his eyes as he looks over Louis's body, is making something buzz in the base of Louis's spine all over again. Liam takes his nipples, but this time he's rougher, pulling until the skin stretches and Louis can't help but let out a cry.

"Okay?" Liam asks, letting go instantly and looking worried.

"Yeah yeah, more," Louis pants out.

Liam swears under his breath and then takes Louis by the hips, gripping tight as he forces him further back against the wall, and Louis moans at being shoved around like that, Liam's large hands on him. He can tell Liam's worried about squeezing too much because his fingers don't dig in for very long, but it's hard enough that Louis thinks he's going to have bruises there, maybe just above his hipbones, little purpled marks from Liam's fingers and the thought makes his cock start to fill up again. Liam slaps him suddenly on the thigh, and then again when Louis nods at him, and then up on his chest, twisting his nipple again before Louis's had a chance to recover.

Louis takes a hold of his cock and it feels sensitive from coming so recently, sending shivers down his spine. His fingers wrap around the shaft, still sticky with his come, and he trembles as Liam slaps at him again, his hand harsh just beneath Louis's collarbone. His fingernails are short and blunt but he digs them in anyway, scratching at Louis's back, and Louis lets out a shaky cry at the different feel of it, the sharpness of the pain and the thrill that it's Liam doing this, _Liam_.

Liam checks in with him, murmuring another "Okay?" and Louis nods and says _yes_ over and over, urging Liam on, zoning out when Liam keeps going, repetitive slaps on Louis's chest, his shoulders, his thighs. Louis's hand keeps working over himself like it's automatic, his head floating somewhere else, but there's something holding him back, his second orgasm cresting without overflowing, caught on the edge. He thinks Liam must be able to sense his struggle because he's trying harder, being a little rougher and switching between different types of pain, sharps stings and dull aches until Louis feels like he can't predict anything, like he's completely at Liam's mercy. The thought brings him higher, so close, and then suddenly Liam is striking his cheek again, just once but _brutal_ , and the shock of it sends Louis tumbling through, spurting just once up onto his belly and then slumping against the wall and letting himself sink to the floor as his knees give out. He's trembling and his whole face feels hot and his vision's gone sort of swimmy, sparks bursting in the corners of his eyes.

Suddenly he's aware of Liam kneeling on the floor in front of him, trying to get him to look him in the eye like he's searching for something. Louis registers him slowly, and is confused to see something like panic in his eyes.

"I'm okay," Louis half-slurs, his mind feeling foggy from all the pain, from coming twice. "That was really good."

His head rolls back against the wall and Liam suddenly grabs at it and tips it forward, and Louis sees a drop of red suddenly splash onto his own chest. He stares at it blankly.

"You're having a nosebleed," Liam says in a very controlled voice.

"Oh," is all Louis says. That explains the hot sting in his sinuses and the wetness on his upper lip.

Liam produces tissues, seemingly out of thin air, and gently holds them up to Louis's nose. Louis takes them, crumpling them where it's bleeding, feeling a faint throb when he holds it a little too tightly, and when he looks up at Liam he sees that he still looks alarmed, wide-eyed.

"I'm okay," Louis says again, slowly turning the tissues red. Liam says nothing. He looks very pale. "Hey," says Louis, his voice sounding sort of thick with the tissues pinched to his nose, "you made me bleed. That's awesome."

"It is _not_ ," Liam squeaks, all the control going out of his voice. "Louis, I'm so sorry, shit, I—you were, and I thought you needed—"

"I did," Louis interrupts, waving a hand vaguely, "I came so hard, Liam. I'm like...that was amazing."

"Well, I'm not doing it again," Liam says, cheeks suddenly spotting with pink as he reaches out to tip Louis's head down again. Louis hears himself make a noise of protest. "I mean—this, I can't—I'll slap you, but I'm not gonna do it that hard again, okay? Or that many times. The capillaries are too close to the surface of the skin in your cheeks and I _know_ that but I wasn't—"

"The what-aries?" Louis says blearily. "Did you eat a biology textbook for breakfast?"

Liam shushes him, gently pulling the tissues away to assess the damage. 

"Am I gonna live?" asks Louis. He grins, which is painful.

Liam frowns at him, but he visibly relaxes a little as he starts to dab at the blood around Louis's nose. "Yeah. It looks a lot worse than it is, I think. Let me get you a flannel. Is it okay if I leave you?"

"To go into the bathroom?" Louis asks. "Liam, that's like two feet away."

Liam stammers something and then gets to his feet, returning a moment later with a warm compress and gently wiping at Louis's face. Louis makes a soft noise; it feels good and the flannel smells like Liam, and the throbbing is beginning to turn into more of a faded ache. Liam makes him drink some water and by the time Louis's finished the whole glass—at Liam's insistence—he feels sleepy, a combination of afterglow and sheer exhaustion. He makes Liam sit with him against the wall because he's not ready to move yet, and snuggles up against him. Liam pulls him into a hug, holding him closely but tentatively, and Louis isn't sure if it's because he's afraid of hurting him or if he's just suddenly very aware of Louis's nudity now that there's no longer any actual reason for it. Louis wants to bury his nose in Liam's shoulder because his jumper is all soft and warm and nice-smelling but it hurts too much—this is the only time the pain is unpleasant, he thinks, _after_ , his body already oversensitised from it. 

He makes a little frustrated noise, and simultaneously hears two other sounds—the buzz of his phone vibrating in his trouser pocket and a very loud sniff from Liam. He pulls back, more concerned about the latter than the former of course, and is surprised to see that Liam's eyes are wet and red-rimmed.

"Li?" he says gently.

"Shut up," Liam says, uncharacteristically defensive, "I made you _bleed_."

Louis can't help but laugh, which might not be the right response, but Liam sort of screws up his face and a couple of tears roll down his cheeks and Louis he huddles Liam back into the hug, patting him comfortingly. "I'm fine," he tells him, and Liam presses his damp nose into Louis's neck and cries, in a sort of quiet choked-off way like he's trying really hard to stop but just can't. Louis's never seen Liam cry, not even when they didn't win _X Factor_ and Harry was sobbing so hard for so long they all thought he'd die from dehydration.

"I'm so sorry," Liam gets out, clinging to Louis's back.

Louis pets at him. "Liam, love, it's okay," he says, bemused, "I—this is what I want, you don't have to feel bad."

"It's just—" Liam says thickly, "I don't know, I just, it's all so."

Liam starts to draw back and Louis lets him, watches as Liam's eyes scan over Louis's body. He colours a little, carefully avoiding looking at Louis's cock—Louis follows his gaze and picks up on the marks Liam left, the red flush across his chest and the rawness of his nipples, and the mottled beginnings of bruises around his hips. He wants to look in the mirror so he can see them properly, or poke at them, or have even more. 

But Liam says, "Oh _god_ , I'm sorry," looking horrified. "I made you bleed _and_ I've left you like this."

"No," Louis says firmly. "I like it. I swear to you, Liam, I like it." Liam still looks distraught and Louis cuddles him close again. "I like it, I like it, I like it," he murmurs over and over, pressing his lips to Liam's neck, carefully, and letting the words hum against his warm skin. Somewhere along the way _I like it_ becomes _I love you_ , words tumbling out and making his heart beat harder, and Liam chokes out something between a laugh and a sob.

"I love you too," he says, and Louis lets the smile spread back across his face as he nestles into Liam's chest.

His phone buzzes again and he swears, pulling back to check it. He has three texts from Harry, all variations on the theme of _where are you and what are you doing?_ He doesn't know how to sum it up in a text, doesn't even know if he wants to, and he looks up at Liam uncertainly.

"It's—it's Haz," he says, flicking Liam's fringe out of his eyes for him.

Liam gives him a wobbly smile. "It's okay, you can—you can go."

"I don't wanna leave you in a sobbing heap," Louis says.

"I'm—oi, I'm not a sobbing heap," Liam retorts, running his hands over his face to wipe away the tear tracks, blushing. "No, I'm—honestly Louis, I'm okay, I'm more worried about _you_ , I just—I got—it's overwhelming."

"I know." Louis nuzzles Liam's shoulder with his nose, and Liam giggles. "But I'm great. I'm brilliant. I'm on cloud nine. And I can stay with you if you want me to, I can tell Haz to fuck off."

"Don't do that," Liam says immediately. "No, go—it's fine. I'm fine. We're fine."

"Everything's fine!" Louis teases.

"Except for your skin," Liam points out, frowning a little again.

"My skin is much improved," Louis assures him, giving one of the bruises on his hip a little prod and relishing the gentle stab of it. "You do good work, Mr. Payne," he teases.

"Ha," Liam laughs weakly, " _Payne._ "

"Oh, god," Louis shakes his head, "I refuse to even laugh at that."

"Then go, instead," Liam says, and he's grinning, looking much better now, "as long as you're okay."

"As long as _you're_ okay."

"I think we're both okay."

Louis smiles. "Okay," he says, and gets to his feet rather clumsily. He hops around trying to pull his trousers back on and Liam laughs at him, and then laughs again when Louis picks up his damp boxers and wrinkles his nose before stuffing them into his pocket. He puts his t-shirt on, taking a last look at the redness of his chest first, and then Liam finally gets up as well.

Louis doesn't want to say it, but he knows he should. "We can," he starts, looking at Liam cautiously, "we don't have to do this again, if you don't want. I don't wanna keep doing something that makes you cry on me."

"No," says Liam, and Louis feels a flood of relief, "no, I like it. That's kind of what's so scary. I like it but I don't know why. It's so weird."

"We can be weirdos together," Louis tells him, and then pulls him close for another cuddle. His phone buzzes _again_ and he sighs, pulling away. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, go back to your worried husband," Liam teases. Louis prods him in the ribs, sticking his tongue out at him, but goes, feeling a little unsteady on his own legs as he heads back down the corridor, achy and sore.

Harry is waiting up for him, of course, but thankfully he doesn't ask any more questions. Louis grabs some pyjamas and slips into the bathroom to check on the state of his nose—which looks fine—and clean himself up a little more. Most of the time he sleeps naked when he's rooming with Harry because Harry doesn't care, but he needs to cover up the marks Liam's left on him so he pulls on the plaid trousers and the baggy old t-shirt and just hopes Harry will think he's cold. When he comes back out it's still dark and Harry is quiet, so Louis slips into bed, breathing a sigh of relief. The guilt penetrates his bubble of bliss when Harry suddenly rolls over to face him in the dark and says goodnight, but—Louis just doesn't know how to explain this to him, wouldn't even know where to start.

He knows he won't be able to hide it for very long, though. They're with each other almost 24/7 and though Louis does his best to keep covered up, he can't hide the psychological effects of what he and Liam are doing. He can't hide the way he'll be all keyed up one moment, and then he and Liam will disappear for a while and when they return he'll be placid, curling up next to Harry and resting his head on his shoulder and enjoying the way the press of Harry's body against his makes the blossoming bruises feel more tender. Everybody notices that, he's sure, but nobody _mentions_ it; they probably all appreciate Louis's slightly less manic attitude and the fact that he's quit bugging them, and don't want to draw attention to it in case it goes away again.

A part of him _wants_ Harry to ask, because he doesn't know how to broach the subject himself and he knows this is something Harry should know about, and eventually Harry gives up waiting for Louis to confide in him and just asks flat-out what's going on. Louis struggles his way through an explanation and it's like _torture_ , not just because of the embarrassment but because of the way Harry looks at him, brow furrowed and expression almost pained. Harry doesn't like the fact that Louis's being hurt, even though Louis enjoys it, but mostly he just doesn't like that it's _Liam_ doing it to him, doesn't like that Liam can give something to Louis that he can't. They depend on each other for so much and Harry doesn't seem to understand that he can't be _everything_ for Louis, that there are certain things Louis needs to get from other people. 

Over time, though, he adjusts to it, the positive effect it's having on Louis more important to him than his own discomfort with the idea. Harry's worried it might be unhealthy, but for Louis it feels so much healthier than how things were before—he feels settled in himself now, knowing he can count on Liam for this. Liam is always careful where Louis is utterly careless; Louis might've ended up doing himself some serious damage if Liam hadn't taken over for him. He's still relying on the pain but it's in a safer way, a more controlled way than Louis ever used for himself. He tries to explain that to Harry and Harry seems to get it, well aware of Louis's recklessness and the danger it can cause. They don't talk about it much, the two of them, but sometimes Harry will check in, just making sure Liam hasn't gone too far and that it's still helping, and Louis's reassurance seems to help. Both of them know Harry's never really going to _like_ the idea, but that's just something they have to live with, Louis decides, because this is good, _so_ good.

It's—maybe a little too good, he starts to realise. He always figured he'd get back with Hannah eventually, maybe when the tour ended, but now he's not sure he wants to. Now he thinks he wants this, instead. There's something about Liam that makes his nerves tingle, more than just the pain, something he tries really hard not to address because it's _Liam_ , Liam who's still chatting up Danielle the dancer, Liam who's only doing this because he's a good friend, Liam who most certainly doesn't see this the same way Louis does. Louis can't avoid thinking about it though; it's difficult to keep it in a closed-off part of his brain when he's literally getting off on something Liam is doing to him, when Liam is bringing him to orgasm—it doesn't even matter that Liam doesn't touch him there, it's still the movements of his hands that send Louis spinning off somewhere starry and perfect. 

Liam makes him feel different in such a good way when they do this, like he doesn't even have to think. It's like—submitting to him, and Louis never knew he needed that, has been fighting for dominance with Liam in some subtle way ever since the band formed because they both feel the urge to lead, albeit in different ways. But Louis doesn't feel like that anymore. Liam makes him feel like it's okay to let his mind go blank. Doing this with him feels like climbing into bed at the end of a long day and just switching off. He doesn't need to bother telling Liam what to do anymore, how to do it, because Liam is more confident with it now and Louis can just relax and surrender to him and it's strange, but the relief that brings is so powerful that somewhere along the way gratitude has turned into something else, something almost wistful.

For the most part, this is enough. It's enough to have Liam doing this for him, the pain and the sweetness after, and it almost feels greedy to want more, but—sometimes in the moment, when Liam's pushed him to the point where his thoughts have mostly turned to simple static, he forgets, and he just longs to make Liam feel as good as Liam makes him feel.

***

As time goes on, Liam worries he might be starting to depend on this just as much as Louis is. It becomes routine, in a strange way. He'll keep an eye on Louis, aware of his moods, able to tell when Louis is just the wrong side of hyper or stressed, and then he'll do what he can to help calm him down. Sometimes Louis will be the one to come to him, and sometimes Liam will offer, and it's not—it's not like it's every day but it's enough for Liam to come to depend on it, to know that he would miss this if it stopped. It's not even about keeping Louis under control for his own benefit anymore, he just likes being able to do this for him. Seeing the dazed, euphoric smile that spreads across his face after, when he's bruised up and aching and totally satisfied—it makes something flutter in Liam's belly and he'll always hold Louis close, cuddle him for much longer than he ever would normally, cleaning him up and tending to any particularly bad injuries (though Louis will protest). 

He feels—special, somehow, being allowed to see this side of Louis. Louis is still so guarded with the boys, not wanting them to see him vulnerable, but he lets Liam, he opens up to Liam, stands naked before him shivering with anticipation and staring trustingly into his eyes and Liam just—it just means so much to him that Louis wants _him_ to do this. This is something the two of them share, something the others have nothing to do with, a part of Louis that Liam can have just for himself. 

Liam begins to get more used to it, as well, more willing to hit Louis harder like he wants and more accepting of the bruises he leaves behind. There's still one part that he doesn't think he'll ever get used to, though, and that's seeing Louis naked and hard and desperately stroking himself, seeing him splash his tensing stomach with come. It was easier, maybe, when that freaked him out totally, when he didn't _like_ it, but now a part of him does. A part of him likes having that effect on Louis, knowing he can make Louis adjust his rhythm according to the type of pain, knowing which things he likes best, what makes him come the quickest or the hardest. The relief is almost contagious when Louis comes, when he's flushed and happy and satiated and he'll drape himself over Liam and thank him—it's hard not to like that, Liam tells himself, because Louis is his friend and he likes making his friends happy.

It's more than that, though, and he can't keep pretending. It's not just about helping Louis out anymore. He realises that when he asks Louis if he wants to come into his room for a bit before bed, after a show, when Harry and Niall have gone off to play Xbox and Zayn's down at the bar with Rebecca. He realises it at that moment because Louis's not even that hyped up, it was only a few nights ago that they last did this and he hasn't gotten any of the telltale signs that Louis needs it again yet, but he asks anyway. Because _he_ needs it. And that's—that means something. He's not quite sure what, but it's making something settle low in his stomach, something he tries not to think about as he tries to keep his face clear of hope and his voice casual.

"Really?" Louis says, lighting up. "Yeah, that'd be fantastic, are you sure?"

"Uh huh," is all Liam says, and they head into his room. 

Louis kicks off his Toms and goes into the corner—he's been doing that lately and Liam thinks he must like feeling like he doesn't have an escape, walls on each side of him and Liam in front, crowding him in. He looks a little bouncy still but mostly relaxed, cosy in sweatpants and a t-shirt that was once Liam's, hanging loosely from his shoulders and low over his hips. He's wearing his glasses, too, and Liam carefully removes them so he doesn't break them by accident while they're—Liam never really knows what to call it, in his own head. It's just this thing that they do, that there isn't a name for. Louis blinks, his eyes adjusting, and Liam goes and puts the glasses on the bedside table before coming back. 

There's something really different about it this time, with Louis calmer than usual, not begging for it, just waiting patiently. It feels like he really trusts Liam, trusts that he's going to do this and he's going to do it well, and not make him wait too long. Liam likes that.

Louis hooks his fingers into the waistband of his sweats and tugs them down, doing the same with his pants. He doesn't always, sometimes he'll just get his hand inside, but they both know it's simply _easier_ for him this way so usually Louis will just pull his trousers down swiftly while Liam averts his eyes, still finding it awkward though they're comfortable enough now to joke about it sometimes. Louis doesn't usually take his top off 'til they've started, because sometimes he can get off from Liam slapping his face alone and doesn't need him to move onto the rest of him. Seeing Louis standing there in _Liam's_ top and nothing else is a bit different though—it makes him look really small, somehow more vulnerable than when he's naked. 

"Yeah, it's yours," he says, noticing that Liam's looking at the shirt. "Nicked it this morning, sorry."

"It's okay," Liam says immediately. "It looks good on you, actually."

This, he thinks, is _really_ different—they've never just made idle chit-chat beforehand, Louis's usually so desperate for it. And it's not like he doesn't seem to care; there's an expectant glow in his eyes and a slight twitchiness to his movements now like he's ready for it. He's tugging at the hem of the shirt, biting at his lip, but he's not saying "You gonna hit me then, or what?" just—waiting. It's unusual, but Liam kind of likes it, likes that they've reached the point where Louis trusts him enough to just do this, isn't so uncertain and insecure that he has to push him for it.

There's a moment, then, when Liam is reflecting and he realises he's been staring at Louis's face the whole time, and Louis is smiling, sweet and a little bemused and maybe sort of fond as well. Liam reaches up to take his face and his instinct is to be gentle, his fingers brush Louis's jaw in something like a caress before he gets a handle of himself and holds him more firmly, keeping his head still. Louis lets out a rush of breath; his eyes slide shut and his hands cease their fidgeting immediately. Liam slaps him. Again, and again. He feels Louis's skin heating up under his palm, listens to Louis's quiet whimpers. Louis's so—still, arms hanging by his sides, just taking it, and it's longer than usual before he's hard, probably because he hasn't been needing it so badly. Liam's eyes flick down and he sees Louis's cock distorting the fabric of his t-shirt, the shape of it under the thin fabric.

Louis reaches for it and Liam looks back at his face again, but for a second he's thrown and he's not sure why, breath catching in his throat and hand faltering halfway to Louis's face. Louis doesn't seem to notice, wrapping his hand around his cock and beginning to stroke himself, starting quick right away; Liam can see the blur of his hand out of the corner of his eye. He watches Louis's face for a long moment, the way his eyes squeeze tighter shut and his tongue darts out to wet his dry lips, and then Liam gathers his senses and strikes Louis again. Louis moans, now, eyes snapping open, and there's that look that Liam was missing, that neediness, that pleading expression. Liam reaches down, slaps at the side of Louis's left thigh now, watches him jolt in surprise. He keeps going, watching Louis's reactions to each hit, the way his eyes glaze over. 

He alternates between face and thigh, blows rhythmless and random because he's distracted by Louis's expression, his gasping mouth and glossy eyes and the gorgeous flush across his cheeks. Louis is unsteady on his feet, keeps swaying and knocking into Liam, and Liam keeps feeling the nudge of Louis's cock against his thigh, rigid and hot.

At some point, Liam grows hard too. That's never happened before when they've done this. He's felt a slight stirring there a few times, but it's never been—this, his cock aching in his trousers from watching Louis space out. 

He hears himself saying, "Lou," in a small voice, before he can stop himself. He's almost scared, which is silly because he's sure this could be explained away as something totally biological and meaningless but—in his gut he knows that it's not. And maybe he needs Louis to know that too.

But Louis is drifting away from him right now, and Liam doesn't know how to bring him back. "Lou," he says again, a little louder. Louis is staring at the ground, and his gaze slowly drags up, up Liam's long legs to the tented crotch of his trousers and then finally, up to his face. Louis blinks a few times before his eyes focus, and his pupils are so large there's only a thin sliver of blue around them. He stares at Liam open-mouthed.

When he drops to the floor a second later, he goes down like a puppet with its strings cut, only somehow more graceful, a swift collapse. Liam panics instinctively, thinking he's fainting, but Louis only falls to his knees. He reaches up with shaky hands to undo Liam's zipper and Liam hears himself make a sound but he's not sure he can form any sentences, not with Louis kneeling before him like this, making quick work of Liam's fly and trying to prise Liam's boxers down so he can get at his cock. 

"Lou, what're you—what're you doing?" he manages to choke out, taking a feeble step back just as Louis exposes his cock.

Louis looks up at him, and Liam can see that he's caught somewhere strange between being totally out of it and still a little excitable—Liam hasn't pushed him into that state of mindless bliss yet so his arousal is a little overwhelming to him, making him buzz with energy. "I need to suck you," he says, voice slightly hoarse, "you're hard, and I want—"

He cuts himself off abruptly, staring at Liam's cock, and the look on his face sends Liam reeling. He looks like he's never wanted anything so badly in his life before, like he wants this even more than he wants Liam to hurt him. Liam doesn't know how to deal with that.

"Okay," Liam says shakily, and he's barely got the word out before Louis's delving forward, sucking Liam down, hungry and eager and almost choking himself on it right away as he tries to get Liam into his throat. Sparks go through Liam's veins and he forces himself to keep still, hears himself murmur, "Woah, Lou, breathe."

Louis pulls off, mouth wet and panting. "Liam, Liam," his voice cracks, "I want to do this for you."

"I know," Liam says, bewildered, running his fingers through Louis's soft hair, pushing it back from his sweaty forehead. "It's okay."

Louis nods jerkily, still looking just a little bit like his mind is somewhere else, and then he takes Liam's cock into his mouth again. He's clumsy with his enthusiasm and Liam feels the tiniest hint of teeth, but then Louis's pulling him over the flat of his hot tongue and Liam's legs start shaking. His hand is still resting on Louis's head and he strokes gently at his hair as Louis takes him deeper and then begins to work back and forth, suckling him, messy and noisy and frantic. Liam stares down at him in stunned amazement; the sight of his cock disappearing between Louis's stretched lips is too much and the way Louis flicks his eyes up to look at Liam—that's even worse.

Louis pulls back, stopping in order to shove Liam's trousers and pants down properly in a frustrated sort of way, yanking at them 'til they're around Liam's ankles. He smoothes his hands up Liam's thighs and Liam feels all the little hairs stand on end in the wake of Louis's palms, his skin tingling as Louis moves back in, his breath ghosting over the head of Liam's cock before he sucks it back between his lips. He clutches at Liam's hips and Liam finds himself placing his own hand over one of Louis's a little awkwardly, holding it there, just needing to touch him. Louis is determined, works Liam's cock all the way in, his nose brushing Liam's stomach just briefly before he's easing back off, eyes welled up and face red.

"Lou," Liam hears his own voice saying faintly, a kind of awed whisper as he feels his orgasm building, quicker and quicker as Louis drags his mouth along the shaft.

It all happens much too quickly for him to feel like he can get a handle on any of it, he's toppling over the edge so fast, clinging to Louis's hand tightly. Louis just keeps going, the pressure of his mouth increasing as he swallows each pulse of Liam's come until Liam is making a hurt little sound and pulling away, oversensitive, all of his nerves jangling. 

He feels like he could collapse, but looking down at Louis slumped on the floor, he thinks he sees something apologetic in his expression, a different sort of desperation and some kind of shame, like he's silently begging Liam not to freak out and leave him. And it makes Liam's heart ache, because he wouldn't dream of it. He wants this, wants it badly, and he doesn't even give himself time to recover from his orgasm before he's hauling Louis to his feet, hands heaving him up by his armpits and then dragging him the couple of feet to the bed. He throws Louis down and Louis looks wild, and stunned, and Liam kicks off the tangle of clothing from around his ankles and then clambers over Louis, straddling his thighs. He keeps his eyes on Louis's as he blindly reaches for Louis's cock, curls his fingers inexpertly around the firm shaft of it and feels the hot, slick pulse of it against his palm.

Louis just gasps out a barely-there " _Yes_ ," his hips jolting. Liam holds him down and this time Louis melts under him, pliant and beautiful, his eyebrows drawn up and his forehead crinkled as his mouth tries to form words and quickly gives up. Liam grips him tightly by the hip, pressing his fingers into bruises left earlier and watching Louis nod and squirm helplessly. He tugs at Louis rough and fast, fist a quick drag over the firm and aching flesh of his cock, and it's so much better, so much better like this, stroking Louis with the tight curl of his hand, a direct touch rather than something vicarious. He's not just the link that allows Louis to get off anymore, he's _actually getting him off_ and it's—it's overwhelming.

He hitches up Louis's t-shirt— _Liam's_ t-shirt—to expose the mottled marks on his hips from the other day, and pushes his fingertips to them, listening to each sharp, pleased cry that falls from Louis's mouth. It's when he ducks down, shoves the neckline of the t-shirt aside and sinks his teeth into a pale shoulder that Louis comes, sudden and almost sobbing, grabbing at Liam's back as his hips shudder erratically. He coats Liam's fist, hot, and Liam can't stop staring at his face, watching his comedown, the way his throat is working like he's gulping in air and his eyes are steadily regaining focus. 

Louis goes softer in his hand and Liam lets him slip out of his fingers, but his hand lingers on Louis's stomach, wet, feeling it quiver. Eventually Louis meets his gaze with a clarity in his eyes that tells Liam he's back.

"Was that just a thank you for the blowjob?" he asks, and he sounds wrecked, but still so _Louis_ , his teasing tone of voice tinged with insecurity.

Liam shakes his head, eyes fixed on Louis. "No," he says simply, doesn't know how else to explain.

Louis grins, almost sheepishly like he's embarrassed, reaching out and spreading his hand wide across Liam's face, pushing his head away to get him to stop staring. Liam laughs in a dazed kind of way and slumps beside Louis on the bed, stroking gently at Louis's stomach and still watching him because he can't help it, looking at Louis in profile now, the angle of his jaw and the slight point of his nose. The room seems very quiet all of a sudden, and the silence, Liam thinks, is oddly expectant. Louis turns his head and Liam offers him a little, hesitant smile, but Louis doesn't return it. He just looks at him. 

They go in at the same time, like it's an inevitability, and Liam thinks distantly that maybe it was, all along, without either of them realising it. Louis kisses him with a sort of fierceness, his tongue hot and sure and still faintly tasting of Liam's come, and his hands everywhere, skimming over Liam's back and up into his hair. Liam holds Louis closer, a hand on his hip drawing him in, and licks softly into Louis's mouth until he calms and they're kissing lazily, sweetly, like they have all the time in the world. 

It feels good, and safe, and like something that should have happened a long time ago. It feels like Liam is tethering him.


End file.
